


three mcflurries to go

by awkwardspiritanimals



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:04:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3714295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardspiritanimals/pseuds/awkwardspiritanimals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tomorrow, they will do what is hard.</p>
<p>For right now, and for just a little while longer, they will sleep.</p>
<p>(or another fic about a mayfitzsimmons trip to mcdonald’s in the middle of the night)</p>
            </blockquote>





	three mcflurries to go

She’s actually pretty proud of the hotel Fitz had found to use as his hideout. It’s in a little town in the middle of nowhere, and she and Simmons had had trouble finding it even when he’d told them where it was.

It’s close to two in the morning, and May can see that Fitz is just as exhausted as she and Simmons are. The two of them are staring at each other across the room, and she can feel how tensely Simmons is holding herself to keep from running at him, like a sprinter in the moment before the gun. She rolls her eyes at the pair of them.

“Go ahead,” she says, and Simmons looks over at her, still keeping one eye on Fitz, “Go.”

She crashes into Fitz with such force that he has to take a step back to regain his balance before he can hug her back. They’re holding onto each other so tightly May can see them shaking from across the room as she drops her bag onto the bed next to her. She picks up Simmons’ bag and does the same, and then has to clear her throat three times before the younger two break apart.

“You guys hungry?” she asks, and Fitz nods emphatically, “Let’s go then.”

The only places still open at this hour are gas stations and McDonald’s and there’s no way that after two days on the road she’s eating something warmed up in a gas station microwave. She doesn’t say anything when both Fitz and Simmons climb into the back of the SUV, sitting close enough for their shoulders to touch. May is tempted to go through the drive-thru and get back to the hotel as soon as possible, but she thinks the bright lights and uncomfortable seating of the restaurant might be the only way to keep them all awake long enough to actually eat.

“I want chicken nuggets,” Fitz says, holding the door open for them, and May smiles.

“Then go ahead and order chicken nuggets, Fitz,” she replies, and he nods solemnly like she’s assigned him some sort of important mission.

They eat as quickly as they can manage, which isn’t really all that quickly. Simmons keeps nodding off against Fitz’s shoulder, who seems to feel the need to stop eating every time she does. He’s also absolutely drenching his nuggets in barbeque sauce and ketchup, which looks like a complicated process.

“Can you even taste the chicken?” May asks, and Fitz shakes his head.

“That’s kind of the point. You don’t really want to,” he says, and Jemma pulls a face. May shakes her head and turns to scan around the restaurant again. There are two exits out front, and she can see another behind the counter for the employees, although she doesn’t think that sleepy Fitz or trying to jump the counter and dash through the crowded kitchen ends well for anyone.

“Ok, we’re getting McFlurries and then we’re going back to the hotel. I don’t like being out in the open like this for too long.”

They get their ice cream and leave, May going first to make sure the parking lot is clear, the other two waiting under the little awning. When she turns back, she’s struck by how young they look; Fitz working on his McFlurry, Jemma leaning her head against the side of his arm. Without really thinking it through, she steps forward and wraps her arms around both of them.

She expects them to stiffen up, to freeze, which is what usually happens when she hugs someone when they’re not prepared for it, but both of them immediately melt in against her, like maybe they’ve been waiting for something like this. It’s still a little awkward, with Simmons’ McFlurry stuck between them and Fitz’s pressing against the middle of her back, hers returning the favor against his shoulder blade, but she ignores it, turning her head to whisper to Fitz.

“You did good,” she says, and she can feel the way his cheek lifts as he smiles. She turns to Simmons, and can’t help smiling when she whispers, “You did better.”

She expects to hear Fitz make some sound of indignation at that, but he’s silent as his smile grows, and she pulls back to see Simmons smiling as well, and Fitz looking at her like he can’t quite believe her. May had forgotten just how love-struck he could manage to look when he wasn’t trying so damn hard to guard his expression. Starting towards the car without saying anything, she glances back over her shoulder in time to see Jemma take Fitz’s hand and twine their fingers together; he steps closer in return, so that their shoulders brush as they walk across the parking lot. She almost laughs at their attempts to get into the car while holding onto both each other and their ice cream.

Their hotel isn’t far, something May is grateful for, since she’s been functioning on too little sleep for much too long, and Fitzsimmons are both nodding off in the back seat as she drives; Fitz drifts off against the back wall of the elevator on the way up to their floor, and it takes him three tries to get the keycard in the right way.

Once they’re inside the room, May breathes a sigh of relief but watches as the other two tense up. Fitz sits on the bed he’s obviously been sleeping on while he’s been here, declining maid service for the most part and not bothering to make the bed himself. Jemma fusses at the bathroom sink, and she rolls her eyes at both of them, grabbing the ice bucket.

“I’m going to do one final check, make sure we’re clear. You should get some sleep,” she says, and Jemma nods, glancing towards Fitz.

If May ends up sharing a bed tonight, she’s never going to forgive either of them.

She checks the lobby and the floors above and below them, scans the parking lot of vehicles that catch her eye, makes sure she knows where all the exits are. The ice bucket had mainly been a cover, but she locates an ice machine and fills it anyway, wanting to give Fitz and Simmons as much time to talk as she can.

When she gets back, the two of them are curled up on Fitz’s bed, and she breathes a sigh of relief, feeling a little of the tension drain from between her shoulders. Simmons has her back pressed against Fitz’s front, his arm over her waist so that they can tangle their fingers together; even in the darkness, she can see the way his thumb rests just against her pulse point, the way she has hooked her foot over his to keep him close.

May stores the half eaten McFlurry Fitz had left on the counter in the small fridge, checks that the door is closed tight and the curtains are drawn, watches for a moment as Simmons presses back against Fitz more firmly in her sleep. She strips the comforter off her own bed and arranges in over them; neither of them so much as stirs.

There’s a part of her that wants to set the alarm for as early as she can bear. They need to find Coulson, and Skye, and whatever other misfit toys he’s attracted to him in that inexplicable way he has. Instead, she sets it for ten and crawls into her own bed. All of them could use the sleep.

There are still hard things that they have to do, on top of all the things they have already done, and she can’t even predict what some of those things will be. That’s for tomorrow though. Tomorrow, they will do what is hard.

For right now, and for just a little while longer, they will sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Right now, you’re all like ‘Zoe, did you just write another story where May just takes Fitzsimmons to McDonald’s? Like, as in a second story where this thing happens?’ Yes. In my defense, people asked for it.
> 
> I accidentally wrote it so that Jemma has no dialogue? I didn’t do that on purpose, it’s just that there’s not that much dialogue in the first place? Fitz only has two lines? Everyone is tired? Listen, this is not supposed to be quality fic.
> 
> Juliana wanted me to put a disclaimer, so here goes: McDonald’s chicken nuggets will not actually fix any of your problems magically. The most they might do is if it is the middle of the night and your life is falling apart and you don’t want gas station food, they might be able to last you through the night so that you can get up in the morning and start to fix your life when the sun rises. They are not an instant fix. They’re actually pretty gross in general.
> 
> Also, I’m shamelessly stealing a line for the West Wing here, but if you can find one of my fics where I’m not stealing a line or scene from the West Wing, you’re obviously just missing it.


End file.
